


Irony and Self-Acceptance

by Kaatosade



Series: The Greatest Adventure [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatosade/pseuds/Kaatosade
Summary: If there was one lesson Law had learned during his life, it was life being an ironic thing.(5 years before The Greatest Adventure)





	Irony and Self-Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another piece of headcanon concerning Law's life before The Greatest Adventure. I guess it's pretty introspective. Includes some OCs too.
> 
> I don't know what to say about this one, except that getting this idea felt kind of fucked up. :D

If there was one lesson Law had learned during his life, it was life being an ironic thing. If there was something you wanted, you also got it at some point but in a form you really didn't want it. And when that happened, all you could do was laughing, at least soundlessly; even though at the same time you felt like your brain was being levered out of your skull with a crowbar because everything went so wrong.

This moment was a fine model example of that learned lesson. His crew had decided to throw a surprise party, to celebrate several things, and not-so-very-secretly it was also meant to cheer Law up. And that concept was fundamentally so extremely wrong.

He didn't downright _hate_ parties, as long as he could mentally prepare himself for them beforehand, and no one demanded him to 'have fun'. Following the merrymaking and frolicking was tolerable, even nice at times, if he was allowed to peacefully sit still with a drink in his hand and perhaps converse with someone once in a while, but that was all he was willing to do. He wasn't one for singing, dancing or taking part in a contest of doing handstands, thank you for asking.

A party thrown totally out of the blue was a nightmare, though. It became even worse because recently Law had been wallowing in angst so badly that he had made everyone worried, and now they thought it was up to them to make sure he was 'cheered up'.

He appreciated the attempt, he really did, but at the same time he wanted to throw the whole bunch overboard. However, there truly was a lot to celebrate and he didn't want to be a party pooper, so he flashed a smile – looking like he had a tooth-ache – once in a while, showing that he was having so fucking good time, too. His crew deserved to let loose sometimes.

Recently everything had gone so well it was almost scary, in such a way it had Law constantly wondering when his rare bout of luck was going to end. So far it hadn't, so life had chosen to come and bite him in the ass in another way – surely being capable of actually enjoying his success would have been too much to ask for.

Ironically enough, his bout of luck had started with a conflict with some marines. That had been quite an entertaining brawl, ending by the marine ship sinking into the waves while Law was wishing them to have a nice journey, giving them the finger. The best thing was, the annoying marine captain had been loaded; after a quick transfer of wealth Law had suddenly had enough money to replace his cramped and rocky boat with a submarine, like he had wanted to do for a long time.

In the middle of the ruckus he had also ended up setting free two men who had been captured by marines; already it had turned out they were great guys and also willing to join the crew. Penguin had gotten a nasty wound in the battle, but after the check-up this morning Law had been able to declare he was fully recovered.

After that confrontation the Navy had seen fit to set a bounty on Law's head, his first one. Forty-two millions. He was pretty proud of it, even the picture in his poster was surprisingly flattering.

He had just been ready to start being a bit more active instead of mostly lying low, collecting information on whichever topic, watching what was going on in the world, and plotting. That plan had started working frighteningly well.

All in all, it was going well. Outwardly. These kind of moments tended to reveal that inwardly he was one of the most miserable messes who had ever boarded any kind of ship.

"Smile, Cap'n!" Shachi refilled the jug Law was holding. "We just got the sub you've been obsessing over for the last two years. Let's toast to it, at least!"

Law hated positive little speeches, they always made him feel so awkward, but he had been made to drink enough; it didn't matter so much anymore. A perk of the situation was that half of the crew was already so happily wasted they wouldn't remember what he had said in the morning. Besides, abandoning that terrible wreck of a boat really was worth celebrating, he had been so fed up with it.

He raised his jug. "To our new vessel, which is very practical and stays unseen easily. And has delightful coloring. So, cheers!"

Cheesy. Could he please just die right now? It was clear he wasn't drunk enough, so he gulped the drink down briskly. The others were quick to follow suit.

After they had won the battle against the marines, they had sailed to the nearest island with a shipyard. Law had been so lucky he was downright creeped by it; it just happened that a submarine using new kind of technology had been built on the shipyard, and he had immediately wanted to have it. He had persuaded the director of the shipyard to sell the vessel to him instead of other interested bidders – by cutting the objective geezer in three pieces, his new wanted poster had made his demand a bit more impressive, too. He supposed the director couldn't complain too much, in the end; he had reassembled the man after getting his way, and paid well.

Law had demanded that the sub would be perfected by painting it bright yellow, for that was almost the most tasteless option he could come up with. No pink for him even ironically, ever.

It had taken a week to finalize the submarine, and they had needed to spend the waiting time in the city. That was when Law's most recent bout of being angsty had began.

That city had been of the most repulsive kind. It was big, and shipbuilding business employed much people; meaning that some pretty shady kind of recreational activities were demanded and supplied in spades. The things that some pretty ordinary people with a family and work chose to do in the evenings...

They made _Law_ look like a pretty decent guy, and he found that extremely disturbing because he knew what a prick he was.

All he would have wanted to do was buying some books and scramming. Then, of course, his crew had started their usual moaning about wanting to find some company before setting sail, now that they had a chance.

Law could get laid whenever he wanted to, so his crew often found his tendency to go months with only his own hand to keep him company quite weird. Like there was something wrong with him if he didn't spend all of his energy doing that pretty monotonic movement in and out.

Besides, he did like _sex_ , thank you very much for asking. He just disliked needing to bother with finding a partner every time he wanted to have some. Also, with fucks like that there was no way to know beforehand what you were going to get, and he wasn't particularly fond of surprises, either... so.

This time the final straw had been a joke he had happened to hear, according to which he liked bodies more on his operation table than in bed with him. It had efficiently reminded him that someone needed to mop all the floors of the new vessel after they got it, and the wag seemed to be idle because he was so eager to sign up for the job. Law didn't give the new cleaner a chance to argue, instead he left to get laid just to make a point.

In that city it had been far too easy to find one of those shady kind of public houses, where the ground floor served as a bar and upstairs you could rent a room if there was a sudden need for one. Law found those places repulsive but also simple, there was no need to guess the reason for anyone being there. Law hated being stared at like he was a piece of meat right after entering.

He bought a drink and watched other clients like they were pieces of meat, in turn. He didn't even know whether he wanted a guy or a chick, as he wasn't in the mood for this kind of thing at all. The music was crappy, it felt like a Royal brush drawn across bare nerve endings. One couple that had found each other in this delightfully romantic way didn't bother with getting a room, instead they were starting against the wall until a bouncer grabbed their necks, dragging them away. The guy's cock was sticking out of his opened pants.

A charming place, indeed. Law decided to keep his exposure to the place at minimum, hooking up with the first one trying to get handsy.

The woman had beautiful hands and a factitious smile, she was noticeably short and curvy, and wealthy too, if her jewelry was any indication. Trying to feel like she was free and rebellious by screwing with bad boys, perhaps. In bed she was a selfish and bossy little bitch, who didn't hesitate in telling what she wanted to have done to herself. For once being ordered around was fine with Law, it meant he didn't need to bother with actually thinking of the act or being creative.

After two physically satisfactory rounds – his brain hadn't consented to take any part in this – Law was left lying on the disgusting bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling. He wished for having learned to smoke, because it would have been really nice to light a cigarette right here and now, and drop it onto the mattress, just by accident of course. Watch this whole place getting consumed by flames.

Well, at least his body had appreciated the contact with someone, as empty and depressing as it had been by nature. He purposefully put his shirt on backwards, fluffing his hair even more before going back to his crew. Their expressions were relieved as they took notice of the signs – Cap'n was doing something normal at last, perhaps he was a human being after all; and surely Law was in better mood now, after getting some love.

Ah, the irony. But the others would keep their mouths shut for a while when it came to that particular topic.

He knew the others were worried of him. Because for some incomprehensible reason they actually liked him, and had chosen to follow him. Thus he tried looking like all he had needed was some 'wonderfully tender feminine touch'; of course his mood worked like some automaton and got better by just wetting his dick.

It would have been no use trying to explain to some people that his really delightful shagging trip had mostly caused him to have a kind of epiphany – creepily clear knowledge of the fact that nothing really made any sense; not life, the world, he himself, _nothing_.

Law had been relieved, when the submarine finally had been completed and they could get away from the island. He had been downright enthusiastic – the underwater world was very fascinating, and now he would be able of watching it through the windows of his sub as much as he wanted, without touching the sea water. Perhaps he would sit by the window with some book and a cup of coffee, relaxing a bit.

That plan had gone straight down the drain, as his crew had thrown the surprise party.

Law didn't like parties. He didn't like surprises. What kind of logic could be used to deduce that a surprise party would _cheer him up_ was a total mystery to him. The moment, when Penguin had dragged him out of his brand new cabin to the company of his crew, and he had seen the decorations...

It had been one of those moments when he wanted to cry, laugh, bang his head against the wall, and bite a cyanide capsule in two at the same time.

But here he was, in that point of getting drunk that used to make him feel even more down than he usually was. As he started drinking, the first few rounds helped to loosen his strained nerves, getting him relaxed. He preferred stopping at that point.

Consuming larger amounts of alcohol used to break down all the barriers keeping his angst dammed, making him wallow in everything that was wrong. Getting soaked in alcohol didn't suit his nervous system at all, it was nothing but depressing.

And if he ever got drunk enough to get past the angsty phase... at that point he had already given up his sanity, starting getting _ideas_. That had never been pretty.

Right now he couldn't remember how much he had been drinking, but it felt like he was on the peak of his angsty phase. Too bad that clearing his head didn't feel tempting anymore, either, instead it felt like something you should avoid like plague. The hangover was going to be terrible.

It seemed like the two newest crewmembers had mingled with the rest pretty naturally. Perhaps the party had its place, to strenghten the spirit, and to celebrate the new members and the sub and everything – but it was more than ironic that the captain himself didn't feel like belonging here.

He just wasn't one for letting loose and partying. He enjoyed more the moments when everyone had breakfast by the same table and some merciful, lovely person poured him another cup of coffee without having to ask for it. The moments when they had a quarrel with some marines or other pirates, and everyone was protecting each other's back. Or when someone was needling him a bit of the mad glint his eyes used to have when an opportunity to get his hands to the newest and finest medical instruments presented itself.

"Try this."

Law stared at the tall glass pushed into his hand, it contained some venomously green liquid with a straw. The color seemed really appetizing, even if the drink being poisoned with anything else than ethanol would have been too much to ask for.

Vince flashed an almost manic grin at him. Despite being such a dry intellect Vince had shown a very surprising, almost scary kind of creative craziness when it came to mixing up drinks. It was impossible to taste how strong the drinks he had mixed actually were. Because getting Law drunk seemed to be the crew's most important mission at the moment, he supposed this one was _strong_.

He took a sip of the drink, for there was nothing else to be done. It tasted like pear, but in a way that wasn't cloying, surprisingly. "Thanks." He had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be grateful when he started sobering up, but he tried being bit less of a spoilsport.

"Are you quite sure you want to join us?" Law asked, as the silence had continued for some time. The prisoners who had escaped from the marines would have had a nice opportunity to stay ashore, continuing with their lives as they pleased, if they didn't want to indulge in pirating aboard his vessel. Law hadn't been the least bit surprised as Tab – who was currently dancing on the table with Penguin – told he was going to stay, but Vince was a whole another story.

Vince had brain, and on top of that the brain in question was full of ideas. _Dangerous_ kind of ideas. The kind that the government wanted so badly nipped in the buds before they threatened the way the world worked, and the power. Law, of course, had immediately taken a liking to them, but it also had him wondering whether pirating really was the most anvantageous position for a guy like that.

"Stop doubting already, _Cap'n_. Why wouldn't I be?"

Law shrugged. "Just crossed my mind that the Revolutionaries would probably love to have you."

"Might be. I had been considering it, joining them... but I got caught before I had time to find them. And it wasn't them setting me free. You did. I'm not going anywhere."

"There's no need for you to feel obligated to –"

Vince raised his hand to interrupt. "This crew's nice, and I like the way you think. Period."

It felt like objecting would be useless and futile, the decision was already made. Besides, it would be nice to have someone in the crew who was capable of playing a game of chess, and understood his sense of humour. The others needed to teach Vince how to fight, in order to keep him alive. Law should remember to give that order. "All right. It's going to be a shitty journey, I'm sure, but welcome aboard."

Vince nodded.

Law got a sudden inspiration to raise his half finished drink high above his head, speaking up, "To our new members! Cheers!"

The others eagerly raised their glasses, but were also looking at Law a little perplexed. He realized starting to be seriously intoxicated, the movement of his hand had felt kind of uncontrolled, and he supposed he usually wasn't spontaneous like this.

"It's finally starting to have an effect, wouldn't you say?" Penguin said.

Shachi was nodding affirmatively.

"What's having an effect?" Law asked. He felt a bit fuzzy, but it was nice.

"This." Vince handed him another drink, a blue one this time.

Law downed it.

~*~

Waking up was the shittiest in a long time. Law was queasy and had a pounding headache, and there was a strange feeling like everything was not right. His legs felt kind of funny, and apparently they were against something cool, but he shouldn't have felt that _inside_ of his shins.

That thought had him jumping to sit up, which he regretted immediately when the contents of his stomach were trying to climb up his throat. He barely avoided throwing up on his lap, watching around a bit more slowly.

When had he returned into his own cabin? The last thing he remembered was Bepo grabbing him to prevent him from drawing his sword. He had wanted to –

He let out a very pitiful groan. So much for those _ideas_ he used to get while drunk.

"Morning," Shachi said.

Law tried to not turn his head too quickly. He had thought he was alone, but no, Shachi truly was sitting in his armchair. "You wouldn't have needed to keep an eye on me," he muttered.

"We took turns. You were so smashed we thought it would be a good idea to monitor a bit."

"Did I really cut –" He didn't want to think he really had done it, because it would be disturbing as hell, and it would also mean he had been rampaging with the sword without remembering it at all. That didn't sound good. But his legs were feeling really strange.

"Yup. You did."

Law tried pulling his legs from under the blanket so as to see them, but moving so violently was too much for him in his state. There was another lurch in his stomach, and Shachi's quick handing of a bucket was the only thing saving his bedclothes.

It felt like an eternity passed before he could stop puking, and even after that there was a moment when he couldn't do anything else than squeeze the rim of the bucket with white knuckles, clammy with cold sweat. Finally he turned to place the bucket on the floor, managing to pull the blanket aside.

Charming.

He remembered they had been talking about fucks, there were many who found that topic absurdly fascinating. Someone had asked how exactly Law succeeded in it, getting laid. Then his memory got somewhat fuzzy, but at least he remembered explaining that his last partner had considered him 'so wonderfully tall' among other things. Then that fact had started to piss him off. He had never wished to be this tall, he hated how he was always feeling like his legs were way too long.

So, taken by a bout of intoxicated inspiration, he had decided to make them a bit shorter. Why the heck not, for he had a suitable Devil's Fruit Power for getting the job done? He would cut ten centimeters off both of his shins and the problem would be solved for good!

His crew hadn't considered the idea so very great, Bepo had tried holding him, and –

That was all he was able to remember. After that there was only darkness.

It seemed he really had been busy using his Power while being totally out of it. The end result wasn't as ingenious as he had imagined at the moment of his inspiration, not at all.

Firstly, some of the cuts were askew. Secondly, the pieces he had cut off his shins were of totally different lengths. Thirdly, he hadn't taken into account the fact that calfs got more narrow near ankles, so his ankles didn't meet the operated parts in a particularly beautiful way.

It was a fucking absurd sight to see. He had been experiencing similar moments in numerous nightmares, but now he was so hungover he knew he was awake.

There was nothing else he could do than laughing, aloud; helpless, painful, hysteric laughter that wasn't about to stop anytime soon.

"We tried stopping you," Shachi said. "But we... well, we failed. Sorry about that."

"It's all right." Law was well aware how impossible it was to keep him from doing something if he had made his mind, despite how senseless it was. "I hope I didn't cut anyone else?"

"Nope. But you destroyed the dinner table."

He was never going to drink again. Not this much, at least. He was so fucking ashamed, he was never going to recover.

"I hope the pieces are safe?" He tried asking the question lightly, but he was afraid of the answer. He had wanted to have shorter legs and gotten them, and he didn't like the result. It would be ironic if he wasn't able to put his legs back together – and ironic things always tended to happen to him. On the other hand, if something nasty had happened to the pieces he would have felt it; they still were a part of him.

"On your nightstand."

Two stubs of shins sticking out on the nightstand; it made for a truly surreal sight, and explained the cool feeling where the operated parts were touching the varnished wood.

In a deep silence Law started putting himself back together. He didn't know if he was ever going to get used to this, using his Power on himself; there was always something very deeply disturbing in these kind of moments. He preferred not thinking how worrying it was that cutting other people didn't confound him anymore, but seeing himself in pieces... If nothing else, perhaps it gave him some insight of the reason he was often dreaded so deeply.

The best way to spend a hung-over morning – a human puzzle.

As the pieces were put together precisely in the right way, they rejoined like the operation hadn't even been done. Never before he had loved his too-long-feeling legs as passionately as right now, seeing them whole again, exactly like they were meant to be.

"Do you want a painkiller and some medicine for nausea, and some water and coffee?" Shachi asked.

"I do. All of those and very badly."

"I'll go and get them."

"Thank you."

Being left alone, Law crawled closer to the window, his bed was in front of it. The thick glass was cold, as he pressed his forehead against it, feeling like it was alleviating his headache some. On the other side of it there was chilling sea water of the North Blue, excessive amounts of it.

He could see a good distance away, it was bright and the water was clear. They had to be pretty close to the surface. A school of small jellyfish was floating by, their umbrellas seemed to be throbbing at the same rate as his headache.

He had his submarine, and he was celebrating his first morning in it by almost puking onto his lap, and fixing his legs. Just the way he had planned doing it... it seemed like a really fine sign for the future.

On the other hand, that old sail boat would have been _deadly_ in this state, with its rocking and all. Below the surface the going was mostly smooth, under the waves. He really found this much more pleasant.

He turned to lean his back against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees. There still was too much of those damned legs, but they were his, and he really didn't have other options than using them to walk forward. He stroked his calf, feeling it, but there was no sign left of this episode, not a littlest seam or fault. They were _right_ like this, despite them not being perfectly to his liking.

It felt like he was about to have some kind of crapulously philosophical epiphany, it was getting bigger like ripples in the water.

It might be that he didn't like himself all the time – he was a freak in so many ways, and often felt like he was alien and of wrong kind, for example when the others were trying to 'have fun'. Sometimes he tried making himself adapt by force, imagining he would be feeling more normal if he did things considered as normal. But that was never the way it worked. It just made it worse, like shortening his legs.

Perhaps he was just meant to be a freak, and it would be best to start a process of accepting the fact. There was no changing it, after all. Trying that would have been like... operating on his own personality, and that wasn't a thing he was capable of. Even if he was, he didn't believe that the end result would have been as ingenious as he had been imagining.

He didn't know if the rest of his life would be long enough to accept how badly the Ope Ope Power was twisting and making a mess of his subconscious. The more he learned to use it, getting more familiar with it, the more he felt like a freak. The freakiest thing was that it wasn't quite as freaky anymore. There were only some moments when he was hit by the realization, _wow, this is seriously so sick_.

If there was going to be a day when he didn't consider his Power freaky anymore, it meant that he had gotten perfectly adjusted to it, accepting himself fully. That sounded very pleasant in itself, but at the same time that would mean him becoming a guy who could introduce himself by saying, _"Hi, I'm Trafalgar Law. Cutting everyone apart as macabrely as possible and swapping people's body parts is perfectly normal to me. Let's be friends, shall we?"_

As long as he felt abnormal, it also meant he was aware of what that 'normal' was. Now the lines already had started blurring.

Fuck, he hated hungover monologues. This, too, was a circle typical to him, where everything could be turned upside down, and if you thought of it too closely you were left feeling even more confused than before.

Shachi startled him back to reality by handing him a tray, on which there was a cup of coffee, a big glass of water, and two pills. Right now it looked like a really delicious breakfast.

Having taken the meds Law started improving the way he was feeling by caffeine. Shachi had sat in the armchair again, and didn't seem like he was going anywhere. Law felt the need to say something. Of yesterday. Remembering – and not remembering – it still had him feeling intolerably ashamed. "I'm truly sorry that all of you had to see that... incidence. That's not going to happen again."

Shachi stared at him, snorting incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"What? How can you say that? I feel really bad for making someone monitor –"

"How many times it has been the other way round?" Shachi interrupted. "Who's watching after us when we do something stupid, and takes care of the damage? _You._ Who's wide awake in the infirmary in the wee hours if someone's badly hurt? _You._ It's about time someone actually takes care of you for a change."

"But I'm supposed to be the captain." At the moment Law didn't feel like he was doing an exemplary job.

"You're fine like that."

Law opened his mouth to object, but Shachi was quick to continue. "Seriously. It might be that we don't _understand_ you, but you know, we'd follow you to hell."

"To hell..." Law smirked. "Yup. That's exactly where I'm heading to."

And when it was time to go, he would go alone. He had already made that decision.

He wasn't ready to sail the Grand Line yet. Perhaps after a couple of years, if everything worked out, but for now he needed more practise in using his Power. It took too much energy, so he needed to become stronger. He also needed more information. He had a hell of a pile of books he never had time to read. Maybe he should have Vince going over them, he would understand what were the things to search for.

Law wouldn't be hasty, instead he would polish and prepare everything properly before getting started with the mission he had taken to himself. He was going to step into his worst nightmare, forcing it to stop. And in his worst nightmares – the most fucked up ones – there was no dark, closed treasure chests or morbidly severed body parts; there was a man wearing a pink feather coat who was able of hanging between the clouds.

That wouldn't be a journey on which Law consented to take his crew along. He would send them to safety, to some nearby island; buying a bit of peace of mind by not dragging them to that hell with him.

They wouldn't like it the least bit, but it had already been noticed that they couldn't prevent Law from doing something once he had made his decision.

He wouldn't tell them that he had perfectly prepared himself to die in that confrontation, that he wouldn't even mind. But there was a possibility they would guess anyways.

And if by some freak accident he happened to survive, that would be the epitome of ironic.


End file.
